


Baseball?

by kaige68



Category: Stratton (2016)
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 02:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15353982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaige68/pseuds/kaige68
Summary: Itwas convenient and lived comfortably and justifiably between friendship and love.





	Baseball?

**Author's Note:**

> It's POOL PARTY month at 1_million_words! So the new pool I'm sticking my toe into is Stratton. To say that I was shocked that there is only one fic is an understatement. But now there's two! Anyway...
> 
> There was a quick BritPic through it by MSB66, and a fast beta read by Asphaltcowgrrl. THANK YOU BOTH!

“I recorded the first game of the World Series.”

Marty leveled a suspicious look at him from across their transport plane. After a minute he tried to clarify. “You recorded _baseball_?”

Stratton nodded with a smirk.

“What’s the catch?” He spoke as quiet as he could while still being heard inside the uninsulated tin can.

“Why would there be a catch?”

*~*

The horribly botched Iran mission was not the first time they’d said they were the only ones they trusted. Other missions had gone pear-shaped, FUBAR. Stratton had seen Marty be a jumbled mess of his own emotions before launch, and he’d seen the man close it all down and get the job done. He’d seem Marty think on his toes, save the mission, save the team, save Stratton.

The SBS officer liked to think he’d given the same back. They made a hell of a team. Stratton appreciated that when they were both on task and off.

_It_ started after a mission they had been gearing up to for weeks. Recon, planning, setting the team and parameters, then less than ten minutes after GO someone higher up had terminated the mission.

They exchanged hand jobs in a toilet in Malta while they waited for transport.

_It_ turned into more eventually. Not something romantically consuming. Not something that interfered with other life plans, girlfriends or wives. Just something necessary. Marty had seen the same things. Pushed down the same panic. He had Stratton’s back, and he trusted Stratton to be there for him.

_It_ was convenient and lived comfortably and justifiably between friendship and love.

*~*

Marty leaned forward, one hand on his knee. “Why do I feel that if I trust you, go back with you and blow you, you’ll have conveniently screwed up the recording and there will be no game?”

“We’ll watch one period- “

“Inning.”

“Inning. Stratton acknowledged the correction. “We take a quick break, you suck me off, we finish the game.”

Marty leaned back, shaking his head. “Nope. Still don’t trust that you didn’t just record the first inning.” The Seal rolled his eyes up as though thinking out a suitable compromise. “Three innings then you blow me. Three more, and I’ll return the favor. We watch the last three and then see what happens.” He finally offered.

“How long are these fucking things?”

“John,” Marty’s tone got deadly serious “If you didn’t tape the whole game, I will hurt you.” There was the thousand-yard stare that Seals were famous for, followed slowly by the most beatific smile Stratton had ever seen. The one he was sure made Marty’s wife weak in the knees. The one he was sure held more lethal promise than the look Marty had staring down a scope. “I can just as easy watch the game on a computer back at base.”

*~*

Stratton would have preferred to watch cricket, and that fact in itself said just how boring he found baseball. But they’d watched the whole game according to Marty’s schedule. Now, after extra innings, Stratton found himself bent over the foot of his bed. Pushing back onto Marty as the man pushed forward into Stratton. There was a hand on his hip, pulling tightly as the other hand wrapped around his cock stroking in counterpoint to Stratton’s movements.

There were things he could never tell the women he’d had relationships with. Things that he didn’t want to hide but couldn’t share. Things Marty knew and never judged him for. Things that made _It_ seem more personal, intimate. And he knew these things about Marty. _It_ was balanced, which was something that he’d never thought to want before.

Marty’s movements became less controlled, more erratic. Stratton was nearly there himself. He heard a snap of the bedspring followed quickly by a low grunt. It happened again. The same snap, the same grunt. And again. And then his hands were in sand, the snapping was happening constantly it seemed. Then another loud snap, and another quiet grunt from Marty. Stratton found himself in full gear applying pressure to Marty’s neck trying to get the man, his partner, to the fucking helo before he bled out.

*~*

John rolled onto his back in his own bed. Concentrated on bringing his heart rate down. His erection was gone thanks to the end of the dream.

Marty was gone. Barovsky was dead. Hank would work out. But none of it would ever be the same. Marty was gone.

He’d never have to watch a dull baseball game again. 

Sleep wouldn’t be coming back any more than Marty would. Stratton got dressed and headed out to find some Scotch and company.


End file.
